


yield

by AuroreMartell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroreMartell/pseuds/AuroreMartell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks of Cersei endlessly, relentlessly, except for the times when he's thinking about someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	yield

He can't quite remember when he and Cersei first started... this, he thinks upon it. Incest, they call it. Such a dirty word. Of course, the Targaryens had done "it" for years and decades and centuries, on and on. Why? Because they were in power, and apparently they were above all the questioning.

Jaime can remember when he was young enough to slip into Cersei's room at night and cuddle with her until they fell asleep. Back then it was nothing sexual, even on the hot summer night when they slept in close to nothing. They were born naked together and had spent so much of their life together, it was second nature to sleep next to each other. She'd wrap her arms around his waist, and he'd burrow his face into her slender neck as he hooked his arms around her long, sweet smelling hair.

They would wrestle in the yard, too, as they got older. Cersei was so vicious, but in a friendly way, he remembered. She would throw herself at him, tackling him to the ground, and he would push her off and try to get atop her, but she'd kick and kick until he grabbed her legs and crawled on top of her. She'd twist beneath him fiercely, screaming about how she'd never ever ever let him win, and they'd fight until the sun went down.

When their mother separated them, there was a lull in their play fighting- in fact, a lull in all their physical interactions, until they started kissing. Jaime can barely remember when this had happened, but he remembered the event.

He had been returning from something. It was probably his reading lessons with Father, because Jaime remembers feeling annoyed and angry, and he just wanted to go to her chamber and talk to her.

When he walked into her chamber, she was wearing a nice dress, and she had put flowers in her room. Before Jaime could say anything to her, Cersei had leaned in to him and pressed her lips up against his. He had pulled away, simply because of surprise, and said something like "What are you doing that for?" and she had scowled. Of course.

"I was kissing you," she said hotly. "If I'm to be your lady wife, I have to wear pretty gowns every day and make our house look nice and when you come home I get to kiss you." Cersei had sniffed, angry. "If you don't like kissing me, how can we get married?"

"Well, I didn't say I didn't like it," Jaime had protested.

"Prove it," she had replied spitefully, arms crossed.

He hadn't seen many people kiss before, save for a few drunks, and it looked a lot different than what Father and Mother had done when Mother was alive. Still, Jaime thought it would be more fun to kiss her like the drunks had done. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her body to his, smushing his lips up against hers. Mayhaps it had been a bit rough, because she pushed him off her again.

"That's not the way you kiss," glowered Cersei.

"I'm sorry," he said ashamedly. "I can stop."

He remembers clearly how Cersei had cocked her golden head at him and said, teasingly, "Well, I didn't say I didn't like it."

They had eventually gotten better at kissing, all the way until Cersei was told she was to marry Prince Rhaegar. Jaime had been cast aside, but if his memory serves, he hadn't been too upset about it. What they had been doing was "experimenting," and if Cersei was to be a queen, then good for her.

Jaime forgets most of his interactions with her, all the way until she had been rejected by Rhaegar. Cersei was full of fury, and she didn't talk to anyone nicely for a straight week. And then, one night, she crept back into his room.

Now this Jaime remembers very clearly, yes. The candles were flickering, she was wearing a very gauzy blue nightgown, and her hair was let down over her shoulders. She had greeted him with a cordial nod, and wordlessly, despite his questioning, she climbed into his bed.

After he tired of questioning her, Cersei had rolled over to face him. They were only fourteen, but everyone knew certain children grew up much faster than the others. "Do you remember when we used to sleep like this, Jaime?" she had asked his as she twined her arms around his waist.

"Yes," he responded quietly.

She had smiled mischievously. "Remember when Mother caught us wrestling in the yard? We had been doing something that displeased her?"

"Gods, how do you forget that? She moved my room away from yours."

Cersei laughed, but the joy wept from her eyes after a moment. "I wish I could remember her better. I miss her so much, Jaime."

"I know," he whispered as her eyes went wet. "I do too."

She looked on the brink of tears, and he knew the subject had to change. She had just been so beautiful, even when she was young, and he had heard she was the most beautiful girl in the realm, even more that the famous Lyanna Stark. He agreed, of course. "I bet I could beat you in wrestling now, you know."

Cersei's head snapped up. "You could not," she growled, but at least she didn't look sad.

"Yes I could, I'm stronger than you."

She had jumped off his bed and tried to pull him out too, remembers Jaime with a laugh. She was trying to look fierce despite her delicate nightgown, and as he dismounted the bed she literally roared like a lion. "Come fight the lioness of Lannister!" she had exulted. "You'll never beat me!"

"I can so!" he yelled back. "Especially if you're wearing that nightgown."

He had slept with only a sleeveless shirt and knee-length pants. Cersei had paused, glancing at his smallclothes, and then whipped her dress over her head. She was wearing smallclothes, luckily, but more of them. Even at four-and-ten, she was quite developed, with teats and hips and everything. Jaime had felt a little queerly when she was exposed so fully.

Cersei tackled him then, and with a thump he fell down. She was strong, but he had been training for much longer than she, and he managed to get atop her. She had thrashed and thrashed under him, and he cried, "Yield, lioness, yield!"

"Never!" she shrieked, and pinched his side with her fingernails. He had screamed again, and Cersei pushed him off her. She jumped on him and straddled him, all the while yelling, "Another victory for the great lioness of Lannister! She has now beaten her hundredth opponent! Rejoice!"

Jaime was laughing breathlessly, and gave up, panting underneath her lithe body as she wriggled around in glee. "I yield! I yield!" he howled.

"I knew it." Cersei smirked triumphantly. Contented, she unwrapped her legs from his waist and lay across his body so she was flat atop his body. Her gold hair flowed onto his face, and he closed his eyes in pleasure.

Cersei had lifted her head once more and kissed him, softly, on the mouth. Jaime somehow remembers being fully unsurprised. "And do you remember when we used to play wife and husband? When we would kiss each other?"

"I remember that too," he had said.

She kissed him again and again that night, and so it began. Jaime would like to say he didn't remember every detail of the first night they made love, but he did. He remembers the way her skin had been so soft, her hair spreading across the floor, the way her emerald eyes looked in the candlelight.

And now...

The wench's sword cuts through the air, and he parries it away.

"Yield!" she's crying, "yield, Kingslayer!" as though she is unaware of what she is screaming at him. The battle fever is spotting her ruddy cheeks, and he can tell she's getting better at fighting.

"Never," he shouts back to her, and his heart hurts for Cersei, but briefly. And when he knocks away the wench's sword again, she screams like a cow, and Jaime finds that with Brienne it is indeed possible to laugh again.


End file.
